


My Queen

by DNACat



Category: Also heavily inspired by Skyrim, Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: And they're sorta gay for each-other, As I said in the fandoms, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, Assassins/Queens/Other medieval things AU, But they end up gay, F/F, Heather C's a queen, Heavily inspired by Skyrim, Hiding, I need to slow down with the Chansaw fics honestly, It starts of slow, Kings & Queens, On the Run, There's going to be a lot of violence kiddos, Useless Lesbians, Veronica's an assassin, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DNACat/pseuds/DNACat
Summary: OKAYSoI got the brilliant idea at twelve at night that, 'Wouldn't it be funny, if we did the whole Veronica and JD try to kill Heather thing but fail because Chansaw BUT Veronica and JD are medieval assassins? In fact, EVERYBODY is medieval (something)!' So uh, this is the result of this.The palace in which our story starts off in is based off of Dragonsreach in Skyrim (look it up it's a fairly impressive building for a video-game). In fact, a lot of this will be heavily based off of Skyrim. Like a lot, a lot.





	My Queen

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY  
> So
> 
> I got the brilliant idea at twelve at night that, 'Wouldn't it be funny, if we did the whole Veronica and JD try to kill Heather thing but fail because Chansaw BUT Veronica and JD are medieval assassins? In fact, EVERYBODY is medieval (something)!' So uh, this is the result of this.
> 
> The palace in which our story starts off in is based off of Dragonsreach in Skyrim (look it up it's a fairly impressive building for a video-game). In fact, a lot of this will be heavily based off of Skyrim. Like a lot, a lot.

September 1st, 476 AD  
11:58 PM  
In the Palace of Iron-Helm, Westerbergia

Veronica Sawyer drove the hammer down one more time, the nail burying itself into the wood and along with it, the rope. She grabbed the other end of it and held it tightly in her hand, so much so her knuckles turned a pure-milky white. Her eyes were set down below her, from where she straddled the raftings, and her eyes fell upon a tall, slim figure who marched towards it the throne. The soft clack of heels against wood sounded throughout the castle, as Veronica watched the figure sashay towards the throne, mesmerized by the sway of the figure’s hips.

She mentally slapped herself, and looked away from the figure. Instead, she turned her gaze to JD. His eyes were also fixed on the figure, but in a completely non-sexual way, and his lip curled back into scowl. He was gripping his knife tightly, and his eyes were bitter. He wore a long trench-coat that turned in a cape that reached down to his calves. Underneath the trenchcoat he wore a black tunic with a white-shirt underneath that. He wore long, tight black trousers and his shoes were also black. The crest of their, ‘faction’ was on the chest of his tunic, in a pale-grey. His black-hood was pooled around the back of his neck.

Veronica herself was wearing a grey tunic with a black overcoat. She wore a cape over her shoulders, and her hood pooled around her neck. She wore baggier trousers compared to JD that reached her ankles. She wore black-leather boots that reached up to mid-way her shins. She wore black gloves to hide her paler hands. These clothes now stuck to her extremely tightly, and made her uncomfortable as her sweat soaked them in on top of her. Thank god she was wearing mainly black, otherwise she’d be covered in darker patches from sweat.

She gripped the rope tightly in her hands, shifting slightly and making the rafting creak. Thankfully, it must’ve been normal for the large hall, because nobody down below looked up in surprise. Veronica let out a shuddering breath of relief while JD looked up at her, hissing out quietly, “What are you doing?” His dark, almost black eyes narrowing into tiny slits, “Be quiet or you’ll give away our position.”

“Well I’m sorry, am I not allowed to get anxious before I’m about to murder someone?” Veronica snapped back in response, scowling at him.

“You’re a fucking assassin,” JD scoffed at her in disbelief, rolling his eyes, “Surely you’d be ready to kill someone at all times? Surely it’s in your blood?”

“Don’t even fucking dare to go dare JD.” Veronica gripped the rope so tight it burned marks into her palm, though she ignored the terrible rope-burn she was getting, “You have no right.”

“Oh, so Mördare can, but I can’t?” JD put a hand on his chest, feigning offense, “Suck-up, much, Sawyer?”  
“Mördare can because he knew them,” Veronica gritted her teeth in irritation. JD and her had been friends since they were young kids, however throughout their years together they had gotten slightly more bitter and prone to arguments. They fought more often than before nowadays, but they often managed to cool-off and agree to disagree, “He can tell me about them! Tell me how he sees them in me! But you can’t! You didn’t even ever see them except for one or two times.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know them.” JD responded coldly, “We’ve been told so much, they’re like best friends to us now!”

“Oh my lord, shut up,” Veronica felt her eyes watering. She couldn’t cry. No, it’s not that she couldn’t. That’s not the right word, that means she can’t cry at all. She wouldn’t cry, or even better she refused to cry. There we go, that suits better. Veronica looked away, taking a shuddering breath, “I don’t know them, you don’t know them. Nobody our age knows anything about them. So shut up, and stop pretending you do, and stop pretending I do. Because it reminds me I know nothing about them! Nothing.”

“Fine, Mrs. Dramatic, be like that.” JD rolled his eyes again, Veronica wondered if they hurt from rolling so much, and crossed his arms, his knee holding down the rope.

Veronica watched the figure take the throne, distracting herself from JD and his mocking behind her back. It must mean it was-

12:00

Mid-day. In exactly five minutes, her and JD would swing down the ropes, and take out the queen. Maybe a few of her guards as well. Her advisor was to be left alone, as she was weaponless- and it was in their clans code that, ‘the unarmed, are the innocent’ and therefore at to be left alone- though they were given permission to knock her unconscious if she attempted to defend the queen with her bare-hands.

In fact, here came the royal-advisor right now.

She was a small-built and tiny woman. Only around 5’4’’ and her shoulders hunched in, while her head hung in respect for the queen as she approached to stand on her left. She had bushy, blond hair that hung in waves around her shoulders and draped a little bit farther down her back. She had brilliant blue eyes- from what Veronica could see- that sparkled in the light of the chandelier. She wore a long, yellow gown that ran behind her, though it wasn’t much longer than a small stick. It had white-ruffles on the wrists and the hem of the dress. It was a beautiful gown, and it had a few places where it would sparkle and shine in the light.

She took her place on the left side of the queen. Behind her, a large flower ran up the wall.  
What type of flower? Why a Heather of course. Because who else was it, except Heather McNamara.

On the queen’s right side stood an even smaller, but bulky 5’1’’ woman. She had silver armour on with green-details and a long green cape. She wore clunky silver-gauntlets however her palms were on display. She had black hair that was tied back so it wouldn’t get in her face. Her eyes peered around the hall, as if on the watch for assassins. Oh, if only she could see her, JD, and their other comrades who were blending is as commoners coming to drink to the queen. Oh they were drinking to her alright. Drinking to her death. Behind her on the wall was a large fist directing itself to the heavens. A symbol of power for the lead-general of the queen’s army.

And then, finally, there was the queen. An elegant, tall-ish figure (she was around 5’7’’ at least) with a slim build. She wore a long, red gown that had white and golden ruffles around the neck, wrists and hem of it. She also wore a petite overcoat over it, and she too had a hood. She rested her cheek in her palm, looking extremely bored as she stared blankly at the end of the hall where a large door stood. Her grey-eyes were glazed over like she was thinking, and her hair had covered her left eye.

And what was behind her on the wall? Why of course a beautiful woman who’s dress appeared to be made out of ivy and vine that stretched from the ground to drape her in a beautiful gown, while on of her hands slid down her hip and the other up her right side.

And who was this . . . absolutely beautiful woman?

Queen Heather Chandler, high-queen of Westerbergia, and owner of the Iron-Helm Throne until her demise.

She was . . . really beautiful. So much so, Veronica shifted uncomfortably and blushed at her whenever she looked at her. Like her beauty was so divine it made everybody around her uncomfortable and sweaty.

Heather McNamara looked over at Heather Chandler, and she approached warily before she began to mutter something to her. Heather Chandler looked at her, looking she had just recovered from shock, and cocked an eyebrow, before muttered something back. The yellow-advisor giggled at the response, and gently pushed her shoulder, saying something back. The high-queen rolled her eyes and Veronica swore she good hear her say, ‘Jaclyn.’

Why was the high-queen and the advisor discussing Jaclyn, the leader of the kingdom of Swanzia, and doing so rather quietly? Seemed rather suspicous.

12:02

Veronica gulped as the sun tilted to let the whole hall know it was two-minutes past twelve. Exactly three minutes until Veronica and JD would swing down and Veronica would drive her knife into the queen’s throat as her comrades fought back the forces. She would dip her hand into the blood, and throw the queens body off the throne as she yelled some speech off the top of her head before finishing with the name of the God of The Assassins.

God, that was brutal, gory and terrifying. Veronica gulped slightly. She was not ready.

No matter how much the tiny voice of Mördare told her it would be okay. No matter how much she thought of them. No matter how much she thought of what Chandler could do in her position. No matter how much she tried to picture a better ruler coming in to take over.

She wasn’t ready, and she desperately didn’t want to do it.

But there was no turning back now. She had picked her cleanest, grandest knife and she had worn her best clothes for this. She had promised her life to her creed, and that led onto her promising her life to this. To the fact she was about to slice open the neck of an innocent enough woman.

“Three minutes to go.” JD whispered to her, still glaring at the queen, “Three minutes until we are free.”

“Yeah . . . free.” Veronica nodded in agreement, but the world, ‘free’ didn’t roll off her tongue quite right. It felt wrong. Free? They were already, ‘free.’ The ruler had no control over the creed. The creed could do anything, bribe or kill anybody who found them and continue on with their works. Veronica had always wondered why the creed were so involved with the political state of Westerbergia.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” JD reached to rub her arm gently, “I was being a bit of a dick-head. You’ve never done much more than slice a few throats, or be a cover for attempts. I can’t imagine what it must be like- to have to kill the High-Queen.” JD looked down at the woman, “Just . . . picture her as someone else. Somebody you hate,” He coughed awkwardly, “Someone less attractive.”

“That’s going to be very difficult when she’s screaming at me.” Veronica dropped the rope and made sure it didn’t droop too far down, “It’s going to be hard to ignore the fact it’s her when she’s begging and sobbing for mercy. I’m just used to assassinating people in their sleep, when they don’t feel anything.”

“That’s . . . fair, I guess,” JD tapped his fingers on the wood to catch her attention, “Just, do it, okay? We don’t want to piss of Mørk.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Veronica sighed, rolling her head back. Mørk was a bit of an . . . asshole. He wasn’t the nicest, and often beat new recruits if they, ‘messed up too much.’ However, he was in a very high-place in the hierarchy, and had the power to execute Veronica and JD if this mission fell through. Though, Veronica doubted he’d execute JD. He had a soft-spot for the young man, having been the one who had trained him and JD was the only apprentice he was ever truly proud of. JD was often given little bypasses by the man, leading much of the recruits to despise JD.

“A minute away now,” JD murmured to her, swinging his legs over so he was sitting with his legs dangling below him, ready to jump. Veronica copied, and couldn’t help but notice her legs shaking and her fingers twitching in anticipation.

She closed her eyes as she saw her fellow creed-members shuffling around, getting into position as one of them counted down. Veronica gripped the end of the rope tightly, feeling the rope cut into her skin. She couldn’t watch, she’d just wait for JD’s little whistle, she’d swing down and she’d take out anyone to take-out Heather Chandler. Or maybe she’d just be able to lunge down and drive a knife through the queen’s stomach.

She heard JD begin to count down, and her heart beat violently. She joined in just as he hit

Fifteen

Fourteen

Thirteen

Twelve

Eleven

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

_ONE!_

She swung down as she heard JD whistle, and there was a scream as the first body hit the floor- a guard. She gripped the rope tightly as she slid down, bracing herself for the slam of her feet.

“They’re coming down from the roof!” She heard someone- Duke, presumably- shout, and an arrow whizzed past her, stabbing the woman behind Heather Chandler directly in the boob. She saw the queen freeze in panic, gripping the arms of the chair as she stared at her attackers.

The slam of her feet against wood, and she charged forward, as JD tackled Duke, pinning her by straddling her. Heather McNamara screamed in alarm, but all the guards were busy with trying to deal with the other assassins who were slowly picking them off. The yellow-Heather threw herself at Veronica, who raised her knee, letting her drive herself onto it, the poor woman letting out a miserable squeak.

She fell back onto her knees, grabbing at her chest as she regained her breath, “S-Stop!” She demanded, getting to her knees shakily and running at Veronica again.

Veronica unsheathed her knife, taking the handle and driving it into her temple. Heather McNamara let out a squawk of agony before she toppled backwards. She let out a final, ‘whoof!’ of air and fell unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, arms splayed out

Veronica repeated the code in her head before she came across the rule, ‘Do not harm those who cannot fight back against you. Kill your target, and anyone who might bear weapons so they can protect them.’ Heather McNamara had no weapon, so Veronica left her unconscious, turning to the queen.

“Who the fuck are you?” Heather Chandler hissed at her, pressing back into the chair and cringing away from the assassin.

“Veronica. Sawyer.” Veronica twirled her knife before she pinned it against Heather Chandler’s neck.

But the fear, and pure innocence in Heather Chandler’s eyes makes her pause. Makes the whole world stop. Her eyes are a perfect, stormy grey with a lighter, mercury rim around the pupils. They’re so scared, as if Veronica is the monster under the bed she was scared of as a child. Veronica feels something. Is that . . . pity?

No. No it isn’t pity. She couldn’t pity the demon-queen of the kingdom. Her hand shook, her mind screaming to drive the knife into the queen’s throat and get it over with, but her heart screamed that this wasn’t right. This woman was just as human as her and JD, and she’d barely been in power for a month.

“Veronica, come on!” JD screamed from where he had Duke pinned to the wall and was trying to drive a knife into the small woman’s stomach, but the green-woman was holding his wrist tightly, growling at him, “Kill her!”

Heather Chandler stared up at her pitifully, “Go on then, get it over with,” She hissed between her teeth, “Didn’t want this fucking crown anyway.”

“Wait, what?” Veronica paused, the knife tickling Chandler’s skin, noticeable by the way Chandler cringed further back into her seat, trying to get away from the knife.

“I didn’t want this fucking crown,” Chandler replied bluntly, “I didn’t want all of Westerbergia under my finger, ready to crush at any moment. But alas, I was the oldest and the ‘most capable’ so I was made High-fucking-Queen.”

Veronica felt Chandler’s hand wrap around her wrist, lowering the knife away from her neck, “I have a business proposition.” She offered slightly, “You don’t kill me, but you get me the fuck away from here.”

“And go where exactly?”

“Far away from here hopefully.”

“And why should I help you? I was sent here to kill you!”

“Don’t pretend like you want to, or that you can. You look like you were about to sleep with your brother.”

Veronica blushed and let out a long groan, looking at JD, who was struggling with Duke. She looked back at Heather Chandler who had a seductive look on her face. She weighed out her options.

Help a beautiful woman go into hiding, or stay with her best friend who would threaten her for not killing Chandler.

Going into hiding sounded like a better idea  ~~especially with the look Heather was giving her.~~

  
“Ugh, fine. Come on.” Veronica grabbed the queen’s wrist and pulled her away, hearing JD scream at her.

“No! Veronica!”

Veronica didn’t hear him. Her ears were ringing, the desperate beat of her heart the only sound she could hear. She could hear the drum of her foot-steps as she ran across the wooden floor and up the long flight of stairs. She could hear the, ‘clop’ of Heather Chandler’s heels against the floor. And the last thing she heard from anyone downstairs was, ‘The High-Queen! That assassin is running away with the High-Queen!’

12:15

Veronica feel the zip of air as she and Heather Chandler stand on the balcony of the large palace. She looks back the queen who’s panting and heaving slightly and gripping her left knee with her hand. She looks up at Veronica, “For somebody quite tall, you’re pretty fast.”

“Thanks.” Veronica replied gruffly, peering over the edge of the balcony. It’s pretty high up, though she’d know how to land it perfectly without breaking anything. However, Heather Chandler has never once jumped off a balcony in her life- Veronica guesses. I mean, she’s probably been raised knowing that at the words, ‘I want!’ her entire court will obey- and Veronica doubted she’d survive the fall.

Two options.

One, risk it and pray to the Gods that Heather Chandler manages to survive, or,

Two, pick Heather Chandler up as a groom would pick up his new wife, and jump off with the girl in her hands, and hope the extra weight at the front didn’t tip her forward.

Veronica glanced back at where a few guards were beginning to push the doors open.

“One, do you trust me?” Veronica asked the queen.

“Absolutely not.” Good enough.

“Can I pick you up?”

“Sure?”

Veronica swept the woman off her feet and turned to the balcony, “Lean back into me.” She ordered before she shakily stood up on the balcony. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this’ is the only thought that ran through her head, over and over and over.  
Heather Chandler leaned into her, wrapping her arms around her neck and burying her face into the crook of her neck, shutting her eyes tight. Veronica looked over her shoulder. The guards had pushed open the door, and Duke- who was bruised and battered- pointed at them, shouting, “Stop! Stop right now! That’s the High-Queen, leader of Wester-”

And as a troop of the guards dashed forward, Veronica held her breath, turned back towards the edge of the balcony, murmured, “Hold on tight, and keep leaning back into me slightly.” Before she put on foot over the edge and pushed herself off.

Holy. Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry the pacing went to *censor* near the end, I sort of rushed it because I wanted to get it out. I also didn't proof-read this. 
> 
> I want to know if I should continue this? Did anybody enjoy it? 
> 
> Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


End file.
